


I Am Here

by GrantMeGrace



Category: Chilling Adventures of Sabrina (TV 2018)
Genre: F/F, PTSD, Trauma, Zelda faces Faustus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-20
Updated: 2020-04-20
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:53:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23744122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrantMeGrace/pseuds/GrantMeGrace
Summary: Rebuilding a religion, as it turns out, is not easy as she thought it would be when Zelda had so casually declared herself High Priestess to her sister. But she will find it even if she has to reach into the earth and dig it out of Hell herself.Zelda calls out to Lilith demanding answers.Based off Pink’s song ‘I Am Here’
Relationships: Zelda Spellman/Mary Wardwell | Madam Satan | Lilith
Comments: 14
Kudos: 79





	I Am Here

**Author's Note:**

> I’m sorry, I know people were expecting a chapter from The Spellman Sisters Home for Wayward Witches but I heard this song and immediately pictured this so it had to come out. I hope to have a chapter of that out soon!

Rebuilding a religion, as it turns out, is not easy as she thought it would be when Zelda had so casually declared herself High Priestess to her sister.

Lilith is down in the pits of Hell, fending off the Plague Kings and the hoards of demons who think her unfit to rule. Or at least that’s what she had told Zelda the singular time she had answered her prayers. And that was over a month ago, right after they had trapped the Dark Lord in young Mr. Scratch. 

The new Queen of Hell had answered her quickly and tersely, not giving a single piece of advice or a guideline of what she wanted her worship to look like. Zelda tries to tell herself she had simply caught her at a bad time. But she’s also not fool enough to forget her frosty attitude towards Lilith when she had been at their side against Lucifer. She doubts the queen had forgot either. 

It wasn’t as if Lilith was the pinnacle of virtue; Zelda knew the witch had helped them because it suited her own needs. She likely would have sacrificed them allif it benefited her. But now the dust is settling and Zelda’s broken coven is all she has in support. They wouldn’t have chosen each other, but here they are. 

Sometimes Zelda thinks they should just abandon religion all together. There are thousands of years of historical text but barely any on the first woman. She has no foundation to build a structure and as blasphemous as it is, she wants to just let it all fall apart. 

But the children, weak and sickly from deep rooted poison, scattered across her home call out prayers to a god who cannot answer them. They need to believe in something, their faith in their church leader destroyed. She cannot take their deity from them too. 

She will, but not yet. And when she does, she will give them a new place to put their belief. At least Zelda hopes so. She hopes that Lilith intends to do things differently from Lucifer. But truthfully, Zelda does not know her enough to know what Lilith will chose. The goddess Zelda has admired since she was a girl is very different from the woman she now knows.

Perhaps Lilith will run things the same. Zelda hopes not. 

The house is stuffy with the heat of Hilda’s never ending cooking and too many bodies when Zelda decides her books will not give her the answers she needs.She looks to the forest behind the house every night before she goes to bed and every night she finds herself drawn to it more and more. Like a thought scratching at the back of her brain, insistent but not strong enough to break through to realization. 

Zelda packs herself a bag of essentials and tells Hilda she’ll be back. Her sisters doesn’t ask her when and for that Zelda is grateful; she doesn’t know herself. 

She stands on the edge of the forest, staring into its abyss, mossy and twining, wondering if this is the right thing to do. Zelda closes her eyes, lets the wind whisper against her skin.

_ I open up my heart _

The wind wraps around her, encouraging her forward. Zelda glances back at the house one more time, sees small faces pressed against the kitchen window watching her. She gives a small smile and Hilda waving her off is the last thing she takes with her before stepping onward into the woods. 

Spring is well on its way. The ground and leaves still cling wet with the melted snow but green is sprouting everywhere she looks. Zelda doesn’t know where exactly she’s headed but moves deeper and deeper into the forest. Something tells her she’s making the right decision as the further she goes and the farther she gets from Greendale, the greener things become.

A world onto itself, the forest blooms freely and untouched by man. Wide giant trees stretch up to the sky, clouding the blue with foliage. Flowers pepper the earth in patches, brilliant pinks and violets and reds and yellows. The dampness of winter hardens and the ground becomes solid beneath her feet. Rocks and twigs and roots weave seamlessly together and each crunch under her boot resonates in the wood. Beyond the gentle sounds of nature, the only thing Zelda hears is her own breath and heartbeat. 

She walks until the sun starts to set and finds a tree opened at the base but thick and sturdy topside, perfect to make camp. She lights a fire under the magic of her palms and eats some of the stew Hilda had sent her off with. 

The wind has followed her from the house and crawls tepidly through the branches. They rattle ominously but Zelda will not be scared away. In the bowels of this forest is the answer to her religious future. 

She will find it even if she has to reach into the earth and dig it out of Hell herself.

Zelda stays though the wolves howl close, too close. She stays though the nights are cold. She stays though it rains. She stays though the bugs find her skin tender and supple. 

Zelda stays and meditates. She sits in the long soft grass by the rivers edge near her camp. The auburn witch sinks her fingers into the green, let’s the threads slip in between her fingers and holds tight. Grounds herself to the earth while her magic leaks out of her and pushes into the soil and takes root.She’s close enough to the bank to feel the water soak the stony silt. The water occasionally licks up against her ankles, it’s cold forcing a quiet shock to her system. Zelda tips her head to the sky and relishes in the warm sun peeking through the trees. 

Zelda stays and meditates and prays. She hears nothing.

_ You can love me or not _

She abandons her magic in favour of surviving on her own. Zelda doesn’t know if her magic is still tethered to the Dark Lord and wonders one starless night if her prayers are falling on deaf ears for she is still using the magic granted by the devil. 

She cannot rid herself of the magical force she has known all her life, the deep burgundy and umber that is solely hers. But she stops using magic, vows to not use it again until she can be certain of its loyalty. 

Zelda is putting  _ her _ loyalty, her new faith, in Lilith, sleeping in a tree for damned sake and one night, in the middle of a thunderstorm, she screams. She screams and curses Lilith, she curses Lucifer, she curses Faustus. They have all taken something from her and in the depths of the forest she admits she does not know if she can get those things back. 

The wind whips around her, just as angry as she. Strands of soaked hair cling to Zelda’s cheeks and neck. Her clothes feel like a second skin and the cold has long since seeped into her bones. Knees buried in the mud, tears she cannot feel streaming down her face, Zelda bares her teeth and screams and curses Lilith and dares her to smite her down.

_ There’s no such thing as sin _

_ Let it all come right in _

_ I wanna make some mistakes _

Lightening strikes not too far off, a warning. Zelda stretches her own magic out in challenge, arms wide open, greeting the next strike. The forest lights up when the lightening touches down in her eye line. 

“ _Come for me!_ ”  She yells, throat raw and tired. There are no wolves howling tonight. The have sought shelter from the storm and from her. “ _ Show me you are worth it! _ ”

Electricity explodes not ten feet from her left side. The ground rips apart, chucks of earth flying. The trees around her quaver, though they need not be afraid. Their impressive height will not protect her and they will continue to grow for ages to come. 

Mortals say that lightening does not strike twice. But Lilith will strike until her point is made. 

The next bolt crashes closer still, and Zelda’s entire world blows blindingly white. The force of it sends her backwards and her head connects with the hard forest floor and then everything goes black.

_ I wanna sleep in the mud _

She wakes in the mud, absolutely caked in it. The world blurs for a moment before phasing into clarity above her. The lightening strike has made a hole in the treetops, revealing a peekaboo sky. Gone are the blooming rolling grey clouds, all that remains is pure blue sky and cotton ball clouds. Birds are trilling around her and the woods sound alive for the first time since she came here. 

Zelda comes back to herself and her body reminds her it has suffered. The back of her skull aches and her ribs groan when she breathes too deeply. She gingerly peels herself from the mud and puddles and hobbles towards the river.

_ I wanna swim in the flood _

Clothes can be cleaned later and Zelda strips bare, following the shining sun into twinkling waters. Water that was so cold just days ago is now pleasantly warm. At the centre of the Greendale woods the laws of the seasons are easily bendable. Zelda doesn’t quite understand it but is starting to believe that the magic here is older and more natural than the Dark Lord. Perhaps that was why she was drawn to the forest.

Zelda dips below the surface and comes back up, letting the mud and twigs wash out of her hair. The gentle current runs away the dirty water and Zelda threads her fingers through her rose gold tresses, pulling the last of the grime away. She rubs at her skin, careful of the few bruises that have formed overnight. Skin washed clean, the witch swims out a bit, treads water.

She should apologize to Lilith. Zelda maneuvers herself to float on her back, and decides against it. She would apologize for nothing until that woman actually answered her.

She was a willing to dig the answers she needed out of Hell itself but she didn’t know how many rounds of lightening she could take.

A branch snaps and Zelda pushes herself upright, slipping underwater for half a second before sputtering back up. There, on the bank, is Lilith.

The first witch is still wearing Mary Wardwell’s face. Perhaps she wears it because it is the more settling option to present to Zelda, perhaps she wears it because she likes it. But right now, it is the least pressing thing to note about her.

Lilith looks like she has gone a couple of rounds with a battering ram. Zelda supposes waging wars against beings who are already dead makes things a little harder. She’s dressed head to toe in golden armour that glints in the sunshine. There’s a dent in the right side of her torso, and she’s missing one of her layered winged shoulder plates. The skin it has exposed is scratched and red. The chain mail covering her arms and legs lays tightly and thickly over itself, tiny pieces resembling snake scales that shimmer as the demoness slowly comes down the bank. But even that is cracked in places.

Zelda drifts until the water laps at her waist. Her queen holds her with a raised hand. She removes the helmet that leaves only a small window of her face. Her dark mane, the hair that Zelda had a month ago not so subtly admired and longed to run her fingers through, is bound in a french braid down her back. Removing the helmet reveals bruising along her temple, a trickle of blood.

Piece by piece Lilith sheds her armour, the metal clanging harshly on the stones of the shore. She stands before Zelda, naked body more bruised than her own. Blues and purples and yellows aside it seems the spinster schoolteacher has been holding out.

‘ _Come to me_ , ’ Zelda had said amongst the lightening. ‘ _ Show me you are worth it. _ ’

Lilith wades into the water, pushes forward until she and Zelda are nearly chest to chest. Armoured boots and clicking heels gone, her queen stands shorter than the auburn witch, just so.

“Your prayers have sustained me,” It’s like a confession, one that Lilith seems to treasure. “I have won the war with your devotion.”

Zelda’s breath skips from her lips and slowly, so slowly because she’s not altogether sure that Lilith is truly here and not some projection or a vision while Zelda still lays unconscious in the mud, she pulls her hand from the river and caresses the demoness’ temple. Wet fingers softly peel away the dried blood. She follows the path down to where it ends by her eye and Lilith opens her eyes that have drifted shut.

Clear sea blue stares straight into verdant green and  _ oh _ . Zelda knows in this moment she will not be abandoned again.

Lilith steps and now there is no space between them. Breast to breast the queen reaches for her high priestess’ free arm and wraps it around her back. Zelda tugs lightly on thin leather strap holding back Lilith’s hair. It springs out, twisted and untamed. Now Zelda does sink her fingers in, pulls the other witch’s head back. She cups water and lets it flow down Lilith’s face, properly cleaning the blood and dirt away from her temple. Lilith reaches out then, gently steadies herself with both hands on Zelda’s hips. The High Priestess drops her head for a moment, forehead resting on Lilith’s good shoulder. Soft panting raises goose flesh on the demoness’ skin and blunt nails dig into Zelda’s hips and encourage her on.

Down her neck, across the collarbone, and Zelda repeats the process with her scraped shoulder. Lilith watches her work, dips her own hands in the water and runs it up and down Zelda’s torso.

Bruises tended, blood and dirt washed into the river and carried away, they continue, baptizing each other until their skin gleams. Pressed impossibly close, breaths mingling and hair drying fuzzy, Lilith smiles. It’s tentative, as if she’s not sure she knows what she’s doing. But she takes Zelda’s hand in her own and leads her to shore.

_ I wanna fuck 'til I'm done _

Lilith gently guides Zelda onto the soft grass and hovers over her. She seems to think better of it though, and flips them so Zelda lays across her. Does she see Zelda’s past written on her face? Had she heard her desperate prayers after all?

It is a moment’s worth of thought because then the demoness pushes her hand into her curls at the back of her neck and pulls Zelda down and seals their mouths together with a kiss.

It’s soft and reverent and slightly awkward because Zelda doesn’t think either of them have been taught to be particularly soft in this arena. But Zelda doesn’t want to be rough, and neither it seems does Lilith so they bear the awkwardness until it melts away and Zelda moans.

Lips meet again and again. Tongues draw pathways and fingers pinch and squeeze. Zelda is rolled back under Lilith, perhaps because habits are too hard to beat, but Zelda finds she doesn’t mind. Their bodies move against each other in the light of day and something passes between them and it’s intense, so intense that when Zelda comes she whimpers so high it’s almost a sob. She wants to be gentle but she can’t help as her body shakes to dig her nails into Lilith’s back. Lilith’s back arches towards her and the other witch’s choked moan spirals Zelda further until they’re both panting heavily, faces buried in each other’s necks.

_ I like whiskey on ice _

_ I like sun in my eyes _

They lie side by side, naked bodies drying in the sun. The cotton ball clouds have drifted away, leaving nothing but blue sky and sun. Zelda stretches, limbs pleasantly tired. She knows she should worry about her fair skin burning as it does so easily but shrugs that thought away and rolls onto her stomach. Lilith’s eyes track the treetops and she sighs.

_ I wanna burn it all down _

_ So let's start a fire _

“I’d burn Hell down if I could,” She says wistfully. “And plant trees higher than these.”

Zelda watches her, notes a scar on her arm and wonders if Mary Wardwell has the same or if it’s something Lilith has carried over.

“So plant them.” She responds and her Queen scoffs at her as if she has no understanding of how things work.

“Nothing grows in Hell.” She says darkly. Zelda gets the sense Lilith is not just talking about plants.

_ I wanna be lost _

_ So lost that I'm found _

Zelda scoots a little closer so that her nose brushes faintly against Lilith’s sore shoulder. They aren’t tender people, this witch and demon. But whatever had passed through them has bound them together, a new kind of magic that feels so much like what Zelda has been feeling in the forest.

“You created the first garden,” Zelda asserts, “You grew so much from nothing. Do the same now.”

Lilith turns to look at her, blue eyes uncertain. She is not a woman to easily admit her misgivings but being in this new space together has earned Zelda private council. Lilith sits up and props herself on an elbow. She reaches out and tucks a lock of hair behind Zelda’s ear. Then she runs her hand down her chest and presses over her heart.

“Take this back to your people. Tell them they are free of Lucifer. Their magic now comes from the forest, from the Earth.” She smirks, “Tell those who will listen that should they continue to serve Lucifer,” Lilith grins wickedly, “They will find themselves powerless.” Zelda raises an eyebrow at that and Lilith becomes a little distracted, dancing her fingers along the edge of Zelda’s breast. “I’m still the Queen of Hell, after all.”

Zelda finds herself becoming turned on again but senses it’s time for the demoness to go. She cups Lilith’s face with both hands and gives her a fiery kiss.

“Build your garden,” Zelda whispers against her lips. “And if anyone gets in your way,” It’s her turn to grin wickedly. “Burn them to the ground.”

And then Lilith is gone.

_Naked and laughing with my blood on the ground_

Lilith stares up at a red sky. The air is so warm she can feel it when she breathes in, and the dirt against her bare back is bone dry and irritating. She wonders if the sun got smaller while she was gone. She looks to her left, sees her castle looming over her.

‘ _Build your garden_ _._ ’ Zelda had said. Lilith sighs. She has seen nothing grow in Hell for eternity. But it will do her no good to dwell and so Lilith hauls herself from the crumbling red soil. She looks back down to the spot where only a moment ago, in another realm, she lay with Zelda.

Peeking out from where she just was are three small sprouts. They light up green against the red and Lilith drops to her knees. She gingerly rubs the leaves that have already erupted in awe. The demoness looks at where the sprouts are growing and reaches over her back. They grow where Lilith’s blood, drawn by Zelda, has mixed with the earth.

With one joyous laugh, Lilith destroys every dying plant in Hell. 

She burns Lucifer’s book, she burns those who defy her, she burns that which perpetually holds worthy souls shackled to Hell.

Lilith burns it all and grows it all anew.

_I am here, I am here_

_I've already seen the bottom, so there's nothing to fear_

_I know that I'll be ready when the devil is near_

Zelda returns weary to the Spellman house by sunset. The back door bursts open and the children come barrelling down the steps, practically falling over each other. The gather all around her, small hands grasping where they can, glad to see her back. Hilda and Ambrose and Sabrina come down the stairs and her sister shoos the little ones in, claiming Zelda needs some space. But the second they step back her boy and girl are in her arms. Ambrose is almost crushing her in his hug and together with Sabrina whose small arms are wrapped around her waist, Zelda can’t breathe.

Again Hilda eases them off. Sabrina wants to know what she’s learned and Ambrose is talking about leaving with Prudence to hunt down Faustus. Zelda tuts at Ambrose and encourages Sabrina inside, promising to tell her everything she’s learned once she’s had a hot shower.

_I am here, I am here_

_All of this wrong, but I'm still right here_

_I don't have the answers, but the question is clear_

“She came to me Hildie,” Zelda says excitedly over a glass of whiskey. Shower done and children all upstairs, the sisters catch up.

“What did she want?” Hilda asks, completely enthralled. She had not been a fan of the fake Mary Wardwell, perhaps after knowing the real woman for so many years the sudden change in personality had set her off, but she could not and did not know why. But now, knowing it was Lilith, the first woman and witch, Hilda is flustered.

“She wants us to know that we are no longer bound to Satan.” Hilda’s eyes widen.

“How-how is that possible?”

Zelda tells Hilda about the woods and the thunderstorm and the river. She shows her how her magic moves now but Hilda cannot see a difference. It looks like it always has, functions as it always has. Zelda tries to explain that there was resistance before. It was minute and they hadn’t been raised to know any different. But now their magic is theirs, and it’s not tethered to a being who seeks only to dominate.

Hilda becomes beyond excited to learn that their magic comes from the earth, even more so when she tests her own magic and can feel the difference.

_Let me ask you_

_Where does everybody go when they go_

_Where does everybody go when they go_

Zelda gets back to work with renewed fervour. She decides which traditions they will keep, which they will tweak, which they will do away with altogether. She convenes with her queen. The libraries are purged as well. They keep enough factual texts about the Dark Lord so others will know their history but burn every biased, sexist, and brainwashing book beyond that.

The High Priestess and Queen stay up late many nights writing Lilith’s story. Lilith doesn’t like to revisit her life but Zelda insists. On the nights Lilith particularly doesn’t want to discuss it, she distracts Zelda until they’re both naked and sweaty under Hell’s dark sky.

_ May the light be upon me _

Zelda and Hilda gather the coven early in the morning and go into the woods. Little feet traipse over roots and struggle to not run too far ahead. With permission, the older students take to the sky, dipping in and out of the treetops. The young ones complain about being left behind and then again when their feet get tired. The sisters take turns carrying them and Ambrose soars down from the trees to give them relief and offering to let the children ride on his back.

They walk to the river and the sun shines through the trees, making the waters glitter like diamonds and the flowers and foliage bright and lively. Laughter comes from the sky and the earth before settling into the silence of thankful prayer.

Zelda looks around at her coven, each of them expectant and eager. If they have any doubt in the path they are about to step onto, they are good at hiding it. But she suspects that is not the case. They all want to put their faith in something untainted.

And now she can give it to them.

_May I feel in my bones that I am enough_

Zelda knows in her bones that she has never been enough.

Hilda tries to tell her otherwise, but Zelda knows better.

Zelda was born first and a daughter, much to her parent’s displeasure. When she tried to be what they wanted in a son, she was reprimanded for it. Zelda could never glow as bright as Edward. She could not be as soft as Hilda. She’d been unable to stop Ambrose from running away and becoming a terrorist. Zelda had fought to raise Sabrina out of pride, thinking that she could do better than her mortal relatives, even though the Dark Lord tried to warn her she wasn’t fit to mother and made her barren. She failed to keep the family in line and every outburst from Sabrina chipped away at Zelda’s own faith. When she married Faustus, she knew the man he was. She walked herself right into a trap because she thought she had outsmarted her husband. She failed to protect Judas and Leticia and the coven.

When her failures come to her, they whisper and nag at her, insistent and true.

Running things gives Zelda plenty of opportunities to avoid the darker places her mind likes to wander. There is always some student who needs help, repairs being done to the school. An eye must be kept on Sabrina, who is trying to free Nicholas from Hell. Even her nights are occupied; she plans lessons or one of the children has a nightmare of parents, gasping and choking on poison.

Most recently, Hilda wants to turn the desecrated church into a green house, and Ambrose and Prudence are becoming more vocal about hunting Faustus.

Zelda agrees with her sister and knows soon she will need to send her nephew and stepdaughter off. They will only wait for her permission for so long.

She sits up late debating what is really not a debate. Ambrose and Prudence will leave on their own if she doesn’t give them an answer. If she is the one to wish them well at least she can be sure to put protections on them both. But if she lets them go and they are hurt, or worse, Faustus kills them, Zelda will never forgive herself.

It can be one more failure to add to her list.

The days are worse. Zelda goes into town and feels as if she’s being watched. She curses her heart for freezing when she thinks she spots Faustus across the street. One of the children runs into her from behind at the Academy and the unexpected contact leaves Zelda in a fog for the rest of the day, struggling to separate past from present.

Ghost hands burn skin and tinkling notes play over and over in her ears.

Zelda holds her shame tight to her chest so that no one can truly see how broken she is.

It does her no good however, as it seems her queen sees it clearly.

Lilith isn’t outward about it, she rarely pries. Though they often clash, Lilith never seems to lose faith in Zelda, never questions if she should be her representative on Earth.

She often tuts or clicks her tongue and rolls her eyes when Zelda inevitably makes a self deprecating comment but doesn’t press it. It seems the demoness is only capable of affirming compliments when they are tangled together in the midst of sex.

Lilith licks a strip up Zelda’s neck, tugging on her earlobe when she reaches it. Zelda groans through her panting as Lilith massages a breast in one hand and teasingly runs the other down her thigh and back up her hip.

“I could not have asked for a better Priestess,” Lilith whispers. “So devoted, so strong.” Zelda whimpers, Lilith sucks on her neck hard enough to mark. “So worthy.”

Zelda tells Ambrose and Prudence they can go the very next day. Hilda frets but makes them travel bundles and says a tearful goodbye. Zelda clenches her jaw and rubs her thumbs against her fists to keep her own tears back. It is the first time Ambrose is truly leaving since his sentence. It may also be the last but Zelda tries not to think about that, she cannot take it back now.

She had already placed protections on them both when they were cleaning up the kitchen the previous night. It doesn’t stop her from lightly tracing another one against Ambrose’s back as he crushes her in a hug.

When she squeezes Prudence’s hand goodbye, the girl holds onto her a moment longer than necessary, earnest eyes trying to communicate how grateful she is for this chance to prove herself and Zelda rubs the protection onto the back of her hand.

“So brave, such strength.” Lilith moans from in between Zelda’s thighs that night.

_ I can make anywhere home _

For all her griping about lack of space, Zelda has become rather fond of the bustling house. The older students have moved into cottages behind the Spellman property but the little ones remain. Hilda often takes the young ones back to the house in the afternoon before Zelda finishes at the Academy. By the time she gets home at night, the house is full of noise. Zelda has come to enjoy toeing all the tiny shoes to the side before slipping out of her own heels. She enjoys that the children have no concept of burdens, that one of them inevitably hears her come through the door and comes rushing to her, arms outstretched. Just as inevitably, Zelda scoops them up, the labours of the day melting away at the child’s excited babbling. 

She doesn’t admit it out loud, but Ambrose and Sabrina changed her. Before them, Zelda had no desire to settle down, resisted when her mother tried setting her up with respectable warlocks and witches. She’d even fought off Faustus, back in the days when they were a little less desperate for power.

She hopped from country to country, partying and studying everything she could, delivering babies to keep herself supported. There were always new people to meet, languages to learn. And that was the way Zelda liked it.

She was living in a small village in Peru when she received word from Hilda. The cousin and his wife who had been living in England with Hilda had died. They had left their son in her care. After all, Timothy and Lavinia had been family outliers and had been living with Hilda since before Lavinia was pregnant. The boy, Ambrose, knew only Hilda. Her sister was informing her the two of them would be returning to Greendale to raise him. She needed Zelda’s help, would she come home?

Zelda sensed her little sister truly needed her and so she came back to Greendale. She beat Hilda by a couple of weeks and had to deflect her parents questions as to why she’d come home. But then Hilda arrived, eight year old boy in tow.

Neither parent had been happy to have Ambrose in their house and it was the first time in her life Zelda remembers Hilda standing up to their mother and father. She fought for Ambrose out of love. Zelda fought for Ambrose out of principle. She’d be lying if she said it wasn’t also to stick it to her parents.

The unfortunate repercussion meant that Ambrose got no love from Damon or Priscilla Spellman. He got plenty from Hilda, thought it wasn’t always enough to compensate. And quite surprisingly to Zelda, he got love from her as well. It was if she went from being fond of the boy to one day waking up to realize she would kill anyone who tried to take or harm him.

He disarmed her with his dimples and curiosity and innocence and Zelda has never been the same. Sabrina only crumpled her further. She loved Sabrina from the first, that delicate moment she was allowed to hold her in the grove. Perhaps a part of her knew even then that she and Sabrina would be tied together more tightly than either one of them was prepared for. But the love was instantaneous.

Zelda could have easily made her home in the mountains of Peru or the Denmark art district or the delightful seaside towns of New Zealand.

She could have made her home anywhere in the world. But in the end she chose Greendale. She chose Hilda and Ambrose and Sabrina. And it suits her and sustains her more than she could have ever imagined.

While her home is now full of outstretched arms and screaming laughter and a full dinner table, Zelda cannot help miss what is not there. No music comes thumping from the attic and although Prudence was not a permanent resident at the mortuary, Zelda misses her adamant inquisitive nature. The older witch considers offering her stepdaughter a room when she returns. There is a room being held for a nursery for the twins and every day it remains unused Zelda feels a little less hopeful.

When Ambrose and Prudence do come back to them, it’s in a plume of smoke that almost sets the back yard on fire. Zelda and Hilda order the Sabrina to keep everyone inside as they rush outside.

Magic is blasting from the portal’s mouth and Zelda yells a spell, hands coming up and sewing time and space and whatever was on the other side shut.

Portals are for witches not strong enough to teleport themselves where they need to go and that is very apparently her nephew and stepdaughter. Prudence, her shoulder torn open and dark red splotches spreading on her chest and legs, tries to hold up Ambrose as well whatever she’s juggling in her arms.

“Aunties...” Ambrose croaks, offering bounty in his hands and the sisters have only a second to catch the bundles in their arms before the two younger witches collapse, bodies giving out. The bundles squawk at the jostling and Zelda’s fear blooms into relief when she realizes it’s Judas and Leticia.

The relief is very short lived.

Blood soaks heavy into the earth but Prudence holds onto consciousness harder than Ambrose, whose back is riddled with holes. She tries saying something to Zelda but it’s garbled and warped by the air seeping from her lungs and blood in her throat. She passes out when the effort to speak becomes too much, limply lolling into the grass. Hilda thrusts Leticia into Zelda’s waiting hands as she screams for Sabrina to get Agatha and gets to work.

_ My fingers are clenched _

Afternoon bleeds into evening which melts slowly, so slowly, into early morning before Hilda shakily declares that Ambrose and Prudence will live.

Zelda has smoked an entire pack of cigarettes and is going into her second as she paces the kitchen while Hilda drinks a well deserved cup of tea. Blood stains her sleeves and front and Zelda doubts even Hilda can get that mess out.

Upstairs, Judas, who has always been a finicky child, howls at his new environment. Zelda sighs and runs her hand through her hair, already disheveled from previous worry and sets down her cigarette in the ashtray on the table.

It takes two attempts to get him down before Zelda gives up and takes the baby downstairs with her. She catches Hilda in tears, head in hands and nose rosy.

“It was Faustus,” She hiccups and scrubs at her eyes with a dirty sleeve. Zelda nods, lips twitching reflexively. Only her husband could reap this kind of carnage.

Hilda holds out her arms for Judas, wanting his sweet baby face and clean smelling skin to calm her nerves. Zelda clutches him tight for a moment, unwilling to admit she’s using him for the same purpose. But given that Hilda had basically singled handedly saved their nephew and Prudence, Zelda hands him over and wraps her arms around her middle, clenched hands having nowhere else to go.

Judas complains and wiggles against Hilda who tiredly conjures a bottle and pops it in his mouth. No doubt she will later peek in on Sabrina before taking up bedside post with Ambrose and Prudence.

It’s still dark but dawn will break in an hour or so. Zelda declares first watch and orders Hilda to bed. Hilda belatedly fights her but Hilda’s been in charge enough for one day, so Zelda shushes her and sends her up.

Each step upwards puts stress on her already tired limbs and Zelda grimaces, reaching for the railing for support. She’d given much of her own magic to keep Hilda sustained while she worked and now her hand shakes as she reaches for the door where Ambrose and Prudence are resting.

Sabrina is curled up in the wicker chair between the beds. Zelda pads quietly over to her and gently shakes her awake.

“But I wanna stay,” She slurs, only barely out of sleep.

“You can come back in the morning darling,” Zelda assures. Sabrina hauls herself up and places a sloppy kiss against her aunt’s cheek and shuffles back to bed. Zelda follows only to make sure the door clicks shut before turning to take stalk of her charges.

Prudence, who apparently doesn’t like to give up control even when her own life hangs in the balance, had to be forcibly put under several times, and each time Zelda had to increase the power of the spell to do so. Now she sleeps soundly, hardly relying on the ease of breath charm Zelda had placed on her earlier.

Ambrose hasn’t woken once since he collapsed in the yard and for that Zelda is grateful. In a few hours his lack of response will drive her to worry but for now Zelda will take what she can get.

Their weak bodies, which only hours earlier were about to fail them are both in for a considerate recovery. This house had just barely recovered from the latest disaster and here they were again.

Zelda rubs both hands over her face, digs her palms into her eyes. She’s washed her hands several times over but can still faintly smell the sharp iron of blood buried under her nails. The scent flips her stomach and brings exhausted, frustrated tears to her eyes.

The house suddenly feels too tiny and Zelda needs a moment, just a  _ moment _ out of the house that is only filled with pain and strife.

The wards stretch under the pressure from being so tightly reinforced and it’s like wading through molasses to get to the other side. But they let her pass and in the blink of an eye, she’s in the middle of the woods.

She’s greeted with the gentle sound of crickets and the first burgeoning chirping of birds. The chilly morning air envelops her immediately and Zelda shivers.

She is so tired. Tired of worrying about the school and the students and the children.

More than anything, she is tired of Faustus Blackwood.

Zelda is tired of waiting for him to strike, of knowing he had the ability to wipe them out if he so chose. She hates the drowning helplessness that runs through her every time she thinks of him, hates how her body goes rigid as if she was right back to standing at his side.

She doesn’t dance anymore. Doesn’t know if she is capable of loving the sweet babies now sleeping in her home. Is afraid she won’t be able to protect any of these young witches.

Ambrose and Prudence almost died today. 

Zelda falls to her knees and screams. As loudly and harshly as she can, she wails. The birds and crickets go silent. The Priestess digs her fingers in the earth, hoping it’s muddy tones with take away the metallic blood from her scent. The forest stands still and waits, taking in what Zelda must give away.

She promised herself only a moment and so she screams on one breath. When her lungs demand relief she stops and gulps in the cool air, eyes closed and forehead rested on the ground.

It’s not nearly enough but it will have to do.

The wards are just as sticky on the way back in and with most of her strength already depleted, Zelda collapses into the waiting chair when she apparates back to Ambrose and Prudence’s bedside.

Zelda sighs heavily and brushes the dirt from her knees. Her lips purse at the mess she’s made but she doesn’t have it in her to clean it now. Instead she reaches out on either side and takes the hands of her stepdaughter and nephew. If she had any power left, she would give it all to them without question. Perhaps in a few days. But for now, Zelda grips their hands tight and slips into sleep.

In the Pit, Lilith hears her high priestess cry out and gets to work.

_ My stomach in knots _

It’s sunny in the kitchen at breakfast and things have begun to feel settled. Which of course, means that something was bound to happen.

Dorcas comes thumping up the back stairs and into the mudroom completely unannounced. The crash of the door thrown entirely back makes Zelda start and drop her espresso spoon which clatters to the floor. Hilda nearly burns herself at the stove.

“Dorcas,” Zelda huffs impatiently, bending down to pick up the now useless utensil. “What in Lilith’s name has you barging into our home so blessedly early?”

“High Priestess,” Dorcas gasps. “You have to come quickly, it’s Father Blackwood.”

Zelda’s stomach drops and her fingers go so numb she almost drops the spoon again. She hears Hilda gasp at the stove and then it’s as if she’s underwater; her heart is drumming in her ears but everything else is low and distorted. Her limbs feel heavy but she hauls them after Dorcas who has taken off at a sprint into the woods.

The young witch takes them just west of their property to a field clearing. She stops at the edge of the trees.

“I came out for a morning meditation,” She pants and points. “And I saw him out there. Just kneeling there, staring at me.”

Zelda follows Dorcas’ finger and immediately catches sight of her husband. True to her word, Faustus is kneeling in the tall grass. He’s slightly disheveled, vest and tie missing, and his slicked hair is falling in pieces in front of his eyes. He lifts his head and then those icy blue eyes are staring right into her.

Faustus smirks at her and despite the fact Zelda is still trying to catch her breath, she stops breathing.

“Did you approach him?” She asks Dorcas and hates how choked she sounds.

“No,” Dorcas admits and looks back behind Zelda. “I didn’t want to risk it.”

Zelda turns in time to see Hilda and Prudence approach. Her stepdaughter still has trouble breathing with too much exertion and Zelda reaches a hand to her shoulder to make sure she’s alright. Prudence nods before freezing herself when she sees her father. Her hand flies up to cover Zelda’s and her grip is crushing.

Zelda finds her breathing rhythm with Prudence and though they’re both breathing slightly faster than is ideal, at least her lungs have started again.

“Stay here.” Zelda orders. Prudence balks but it’s half hearted. Her eyes give away the fear and apprehension she feels at approaching her father after his attack. Hilda holds her back just in case, wrapping a delicate arm around her waist.

Zelda breaches the trees and regrets not taking the time to grab a proper coat - or shoes for that matter. The morning sun provides a little warmth when it’s not catching on the trees but her satin robe gives her little comfort, especially since she feels herself getting colder and colder the closer she gets to Faustus. There are pine needles in her slippers that poke uncomfortably at her feet and the kitten heels cling to the soggy earth, making extra resistance.

As she crosses the field, the high priestess feels her confusion grow. Faustus hasn’t moved since Dorcas first spotted him, presumably in the time it took them to reach him, and he doesn’t move now. It could be a trap, luring her out into the open only to pounce and slit her throat. Although, Faustus had always preferred to have flourish, his ego demanded his power be seen. This isn’t nearly a big enough audience. But then again her husband was full of surprises.

Zelda stops ten feet away from Faustus. It’s only once she comes to be in front of him that she realizes his kneeling position is not one of choice. Faustus is bound, magically.

There is only one being Zelda knows who could bind Faustus Blackwood for such a time.

“Lilith,” She whispers. The still morning air picks up and blows from behind Faustus and through Zelda’s hair. The hairs in the back of her neck prickle as the sudden wind changes to a warm breath.

“I am here.” Lilith murmurs and wraps her hands around Zelda’s shoulders. It’s only once her hell heated hands are steadying her does Zelda realize her shoulders are shaking. From the chill or from Faustus’ relentless stare, she can’t say.

Faustus snarls but doesn’t speak. Perhaps he’s been magically gagged as well Zelda thinks; a good precaution.

Lilith leans forward over Zelda’s shoulder, her face inches from her own and tuts, giving a pout to Faustus.

“Ah ah,” she singsongs, “Don’t be nasty Faustus.” Lilith moves around Zelda and crouches down, her red skirts flames at Faustus’ knees. “I’m going to lift my little spell, and you’re going to be polite so my High Priestess can say what she needs and then we’ll take our leave.”

The Queen snaps her finger and Faustus sighs, rotating his jaw. Lilith drifts back to Zelda’s side, taking her hand in one of hers and holding her elbow in the other. The touch is surprisingly tender and it jolts Zelda from the present and to their first day together at the river.

Her husband’s lips curl disdainfully and Zelda has to turn away to look at Lilith. Lilith squeezes her hand and leans in so what she says next can only be heard by the high priestess.

“Do what thou wilt,” Lilith says sincerely. Zelda’s eyes widen at the implication and her queen is so close Zelda has to tilt her head back to meet Lilith’s eyes for confirmation. The first witch gives an almost imperceptible nod and rubs her elbow. “I am here, all you must do is call.”

Then she is gone and Zelda is left staring at the space she just was. She spins to look back at the trees, makes out Hilda and Prudence and Dorcas standing at their edge. Hilda still has a hand on Prudence who looks like now she is ready to come to Zelda’s side. Hilda tilts her head is question but Zelda shakes her head and turns away as Hilda explains to Prudence.

‘ _ Do what thou wilt. _ ’ The words ring in her ears and Zelda looks over her husband. How often had she thought about just that? On sleepless nights she pictured binding him and ripping him limb from limb and breaking his neck when his body could take no more. She dreamed of slitting his throat and sitting with him, watching the inescapable fear wash over him as she stared him right in the eye until the life left them.

Zelda wants him to feel as powerless as she had. But here, in the middle of this field and finally facing him, she doesn’t know where to start. Despite being bound and essentially helpless, Faustus still has Zelda exactly where he wants her.

“Where are my children?” Faustus demands in her silence. Zelda does not offer an answer and Faustus looks past her to the trees and spots Prudence. “Ah, you have brought me my oldest child.” He lowers his voice conspiratorially, like he’s about to tell her Brother Hargrove had just failed to banish a demon. “I’ll admit, she’s not my favourite, but no matter. I can get the others as soon as it’s convenient.”

Zelda steps in his path, blocking both father and daughter from seeing the other. She will not let him intimidate Prudence. The girl had spent her whole life working for Faustus’ approval and she was still just as dispensable to him as a sacrifice. Her own spiralling thoughts are abandoned for the moment as rage surges through her. Zelda lunges forward and grabs Faustus by the jaw, digging her nails into his cheeks. 

“They are my children,” She grinds out. And she means it. The babies she was afraid she could not love and even Prudence. They are hers. Zelda will not allow them to be taken away again. She does loves them, she realizes in a blinding moment. She squeezes Faustus’ jaw tighter. “You do not get to know them.”

“And the coven?” Faustus asks. Zelda doesn’t understand why he insists on exchanging pleasantries like he’s just returned from a vacation.

“The coven is mine,” Zelda asserts, “And just like like the children, you don’t get to know anything about them.” More pressure. “Not after you left them to choke.”

Faustus chuckles but his face follows her squeezing hand in an attempt to relieve some pressure. His eyes twinkle at her rage like he’s gotten what he wanted and Zelda rips her hand away as if it had been burned.

He  _ wants _ her angry.

He’s exchanging pleasantries to avoid being made to face what he’s done. Faustus has no intention of apologizing for anything he’s done. Not that it would make a difference. He wants her angry because then she’s more likely to make a mistake he can exploit.

Zelda takes a steadying breath and crosses her arms over her chest. She refuses to play his game.

Now that her anger has settled to a dull simmer, Zelda feels quite drained. Her heart feels particularly light, like all the blood has been drained from it. Her legs feel as though they’re going to give out.

He is just a man, Zelda tells herself, though lodged deep in her mind and imprinted on her skin he terrifies her. He is not some inescapable force; he is not anger so strong it is its own entity, running ahead and behind, a tangible monster careening into every possible space it can find.

In this moment he is minuscule and powerless and she still can’t find the strength to end this.

Her rooted magic steadies her, despite her bloodless heart and weak legs and shaking hands.

He is just a man.

And the best way out is always through.

Zelda calls out.   
  


_My heart it is racing, but afraid I am not_

_Afraid I am not_

Lilith appears from behind Zelda, a little skip in her step as two strides brings her to the high priestess’ side. She splays her hand flat against the small of Zelda’s back and Faustus strains against his bonds as he scowls.

He’s looking at her as though she’s just betrayed him and broken holy law. He’s always been a possessive man. Once it had been rather attractive to have him want her like that. But now she sees he saw her only as something to dominate.Faustus didn’t want anyone else to have her because it proved he wasn’t able to keep her, wasn’t able to best her.

Faustus does not care that Lilith’s hands are on her because he loves Zelda. He cares because she is not in his control. 

They are both possessive people, her queen and her husband. Lilith is far more protective than Faustus and without a spoken word she tightens his bonds and Faustus groans in pain.

Zelda leans into the touch offered by Lilith. Her queen gives a satisfied hum but then frowns as she looks Faustus over and finds him no worse for wear.

Lilith circles her husband, catches sight of his reddened cheeks and nail indentations. She grasps his chin roughly and yanks it up to inspect the damage. The Queen looks over her shoulder, raises an eyebrow. Zelda looks away, ashamed to have not met her queen’s expectations.

In truth, she’s ashamed to not have met her own expectations at this moment. 

Faustus mutters something. Zelda hears a choking noise that gets cut off and when she looks up Lilith has gagged him again. She leaves him to struggle against his bonds and comes in front of Zelda, blocking Faustus’ view of her.

“If I take him now,” Lilith says slowly, afraid that Zelda doesn’t understand. “You will never see him again.”

Zelda understands perfectly. If she lets Lilith take Faustus now, he will die in Hell at her queen’s pleasure.

“I want to be done of this.” Zelda whispers, voice cracking and eyes shooting to the ground. She suddenly feels very exposed. But it’s the truth, she realizes. She wants the certainty of knowing he can never hurt her again. Lilith is offering her that. Zelda had thought that certainty would come by her own hand. But the end result is the same. Lilith tips Zelda’s chin up to meet her eyes.

“So be it.” There is no judgement in Lilith’s voice, but there is a finality. Lilith cups her jaw and leans in, pressing a soft kiss to Zelda’s cheek. Zelda’s breath shudders and she closes her eyes and presses her temple to Lilith’s. She is grateful that Mary Wardwell had been blessed with such thick hair so the Faustus cannot see how frayed he has made her. She can barely stand to let Lilith see her this way.

The Queen twirls around and claps her hands together.

“Time to go Father.”

In an instant Faustus’ bravado falls away. He quickly resurrects a barely passable look of indifference. It’s only for a moment but Zelda sees it.

Faustus is  _scared_ .

So that’s why Faustus wanted her angry. He was hoping her mistake would be his murder. Better to be killed quickly in Zelda’s fury than tortured for however long suited Lilith. Faustus was planning on being able to manipulate Zelda one last time.

And he failed.

Lilith advances on Faustus who begins to struggle in earnest. It’s useless because his power is not enough to take on the very first witch and the Dark Lord is powerless to answer his unspoken prayers. She stands at his side but because Lilith is unable to resist a little chaos, she grabs Faustus’ shoulder. Shimmering away is her human hand, revealing a cracked and worn green skin.The demon’s hand now fully covers his shoulder and with a glint in her eye and a smirk on her lips, she sinks her large talons into his flesh.

The obsidian razors cut through his skin with ease and Lilith presses in until she reaches her first knuckle. Faustus’ face twists in a silent scream. Hot, slippery blood gushes over Lilith’s fingers. It flows down his dress shirt and splatters the grass below. Lilith tightens the bonds holding Faustus to prevent his struggling and forcing him to bear the pain as she digs in.

Zelda watches, eyes locked on all the blood that rushes from her husband’s body. Watches as he squirms but can do nothing, and she takes in every detail. It comes to her like snapshots; Faustus’ tears, something Zelda has never seen. His chest heaving. The bright, bright red on starch white. The ground getting wetter with each second that passes.

Zelda wants to look away but doesn’t. She has already bowed twice and she will not been seen doing so again.

Besides, this was what she dreamed of. Oddly it does not soothe her like she imagined it would.

Lilith seems to see this and her brow furrows. She doesn’t understand why Zelda is not relishing in this as much as she is. Lilith squeezes harder and Faustus strains but Zelda doesn’t react. She doesn’t flinch, she doesn’t smile. She just stares.

This is her last chance. Her queen has split her husband’s blood, hoping to entice Zelda into revenge. Lilith will not bring him back when she has chosen to drink away her nightmares and suddenly has no lingering terror but is filled with unrequited bloodlust.

But Zelda meant what she had said. She wants to be done with Faustus, all of it. Zelda just can’t do it herself.

Lilith’s face softens in understanding for only a moment and then she and Faustus are gone in a plume of smoke.

In the distance, Zelda can hear footsteps, soft and quick, closing in. She knows it’s not Hilda who reaches her first, she cannot smell the delicate freesia flower her sister likes to wear.

It’s Prudence who comes to her, almost sliding on the dewy grass. She takes in the blood and dissipating smoke and turns to Zelda for answers. Zelda looks at her stepdaughter and has to blink away tears to see that Prudence is teary eyed as well. She can’t tell if the young girl’s tears are from relief or if some part of her is upset to know Faustus had suffered.

Zelda tugs Prudence close and takes her into her arms. Prudence stiffens but then melts against her and presses her face into Zelda’s shoulder. There’s silence and then Prudence’s breath hitches and her shoulders shake. Zelda cradles her head, fingers absently stroking the blonde fuzz. Tears of her own traitorously leak out but Zelda swallows her breath jumping in her throat.

“It’s over,” Zelda whispers and Prudence clings tight. 

It’s far from over. There is relief to be had of course; the adrenaline is wearing off and now her legs truly are jelly but there is also a lightness that is not weak blooming inside her. It will not immediately make things right, there will still be sleepless nights and fog ridden days. Ghost hands will burn skin and Zelda still doesn’t know if she can dance again.

But it will lessen. Zelda will love the babies and Prudence. She will help Sabrina to flourish and encourage Ambrose to spread his wings. She will try not to hold onto Hilda too tightly.

Faustus is gone and Zelda remains.

She is here.

_I am here, I am here_

_I've already seen the bottom, so there's nothing to fear_

_I know that I'll be ready when the devil is near_

_I am here_


End file.
